Estranged Dependency
by BellonaBellatrix
Summary: Ginny is awakened after the war from a strange imprisonment. Will anyone save her? And what does her ‘savior’ want? DMGW


Summary: Ginny is awakened after the war from a strange imprisonment. Will anyone save her? And what does her 'savior' want?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/ Ginny Weasley

Disclaimer: I no own

Prologue

Something tickled her brow and she scrunched up her face. Something was sliding down the side of her face and into her mouth, and her first thought was ink. Ink. Ink everywhere.

Then she struggled awake but could not. Trapped in the thresh hold of wakefulness and the grip of sleep, Ginny did not panic; she couldn't find the energy to be panicky. As it happened, she felt blissfully numb...in fact she couldn't fell any part of her body.

Someone told me a secret about you.

It was as if someone was whispering in her dreams, right beside her ear, and at the same time, writing with biting fervor behind her eyelids, like an image that wouldn't go away no matter how many times you closed your eyes...she could imagine she heard the scratching of the quill. She turned towards them quietly, the words, but didn't quite understand them.

_A secret_ she murmured lightly to nothing. Her thoughts swam. 'Keepers, words, on the wall, keep it close to your heart'. Her father holding her...with a secret comes responsibility. A key, keep it close, keep me close to your heart even when you sleep. A boy with dark hair kneeling besides her, watching...She felt herself clinging to something in order to turn away from his gaze.

_What kind of secret?_ she questioned.

There was a pause where she could still see and sense the words. She knew the quill hovered above her, posed and ready to strike. She could see all its designs, silver and wickedly curved.

So you are alive, Weasley.

It hurt now, a pain, and she swam closer upward. Weasel, Weasley, Weezes...a blur of red hair. A older woman with red hair...it was on her lips. She trembled. The name was familiar, yes, but she did not see...was she Weasley? A name...

_W-Weasley, is that my...what is...o...oh gods!_

She shrieked, bursting upon wakefulness and opening her eyes to find nothing. Just an inky darkness where she couldn't see her hands, herself, her being! She could not move and noted a critical factor. There was no air.

_I can't breathe! I-I'm suffocating! Please! _she cried to herself and whomever had awakened her.

_Typical...you can't suffocate, Weasley, as you have no body. And apparently no mind but that's another matter..._

She forced herself to calm down while chanting there was air, there had to be! And hissed in rebellion at the lying bastard above...or where ever he was. If she had no body, she would be dead or a ghost at---

_WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME! _

Though that was obvious. They killed her, snuffed her, hexed her to death! A wave of sorrow passed over her and she tried not to sob.

_Stop that, st-_ the words blurred and sounded slurred in her head. Ginny strangled her tears.

_Oh for, only you could actually cry bodiless. You're smearing my ink and making a sopping mess everywhere._

Ink, ink, out of...Ginerva Weasley finally understood where she was. She wondered if she could be nauseated formless as well. It was an interesting image for a moment, being sick out of a diary. She would have laughed if she hadn't been so afraid.

_Tom? Is that you?_

Of course, he had come back for her. And now she had taken his place. She burrowed into a ball, or at least, felt like she did, and hoped a reply would never come.

NO came the curt answer back, sounding slightly offended with extra pressure on the quill point.

She almost huffed in annoyance. What a prat! Was she just supposed to recognize someone she couldn't see! Certainly thought a lot of himself if he...oh gods.

_Malfoy!_ She hissed upward in surprise.

She practically saw his smirk.

Who else has this kind of ink, Weasley? Though I doubt you'd know the difference...

She closed her eyes and shivered.

_What are you going to do with me?_ She questioned...imagining every hex she had ever set on him.

Well, you're even more useless in there than usual, Weaslette. So I was briefly entertaining the notion of getting you out.

_What do I have to do?_

Thought you'd never ask…

Ginny waited for the answer, a definite answer from him with her mind reeling. It hurt almost…that she couldn't remember how she was put in here. In the space of a few minutes, the unknown made her want to scream and rip and curse and hex…

_Well! _

There was a muttering all around her, drowning her senses, and she felt something give. Pain is what she felt.

She screamed as shooting pains retraced her body for her; she could feel her fingers and her toes. Yet after feeling nothing for awhile…for one moment, she forgot her name again.

Then she heard her screams. Heard them echo back at her and it was like submerging from being held down in a well full of water for so long by invisible hands. The pressure lifted from her body. The air hit her skin and she hissed in shock, delicious shock that sent her to her knees. She realized she was still screaming raggedly and quieted down.

Cold seeped through her stomach and she realized something else. She was quite unclothed. She was blind once more as something was being thrown over her.

"Ahh! What the-!"

She managed to get the cloth over her hand and saw that Draco Malfoy had retreated to the opposite side of the room. He looked slightly disconcerted for a Malfoy, the lightest of pink in his cheeks.

"I didn't…I thought you would come out with clothes on," he muttered.

The desk had been turned over and the incriminating diary which she recognized immediately was stained in Malfoy's precious ink. She reached over, shivering and touched it briefly. She had to touch it. To make sure this wasn't just a horrible, horrible dream…

But the pages were rough and played against her fingers and the unforgiving stone was freezing, and she was nude in Draco Malfoy's study. Well, semi-nude…

He seemed to have regained his thought process.

"Well, well, it seems that you, Weaslette, owe me," he drawled, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his pale features. "And since we had an agreement…"

He choose to let the sentence hang, dangling it in front of her.

"I don't owe you anything, you delusional ferret! I never agreed to anything in that diary! Aren't you supposed to be a Slytherin? You should have planned your hand better while you had it!"

On second thought, Ginny supposed it wasn't smart to be arguing with a possible Death Eater while wandless and quite exposed. But she couldn't help it.

"Oh, there was no need for you consent, _Ginerva_. You obviously never understood the implications of the Dark Lord's magic but how could the likes of you comprehend such an object? You see, before I freed you, I made some minor adjustments that make you in turn, for lack of a better word, my slave."

She clenched her hands on the sheet around her in shock. 'This can't be happening, this can't…what did I do to deserve this?'

"Why?" she asked lifelessly, her anger draining away. "I mean, what's the point? You…you…you never really thought on me, Malfoy. My brother was who you fought with, not me."

She almost cried at this point, out of frustration. For she knew she had a brother, she couldn't remember his name though. For the life of her, no matter how hard she searched, it seemed on the tip of her tongue but permanently petrified there. Conversely, she remembered Malfoy…and Tom. Why not her family? Why did she not know they're names?

"Because you, Weasley, hexed me, and I don't forget those who cross me. Secondly, you were the only one saved in a diary I knew. There are others…the Dark Lord does have his collection of enemies preserved, for kicks, I suppose…but you were the first one I could find available to me. So…think of it as luck of the draw."

"I think I am going to be sick," she groaned, in truthfulness. Her head pounded and all the many portraits of scowling, sneering, and smirking Malfoys were blurring. She hobbled to a particularly big chair and sank into it, holding her trembling hand to her forehead. Everything was flashing hot to cold, hot to cold. She wasn't going to look at him.

"Kreacher!" Malfoy bellowed, and Ginny's head hurt worse. Dear gods, did he have to yell that loud? A simple summoning charm, that's all, but no, not Malfoy…has to make a bloody production.

"Master," a grim, ragged House Elf popped through the door, and Ginny thought it looked familiar. But didn't they all look alike?

"Bring some water…and a bucket," he added, disdainfully.

"Don't forget the ice," Ginny muttered. "And a wash cloth I wouldn't say no to either…or liquor."

The House Elf shot his master a questioning look, and Malfoy waved him away impatiently. It Disapparated with a crack.

"Don't expect to get drunk on me, Weasel. I won't tolerate an alcoholic servant."

Ginny made a plan to get her hands on every liquor bottle she could find if, by chance, he sent her to the kitchens. If he sent her to…oh gods…

"Malfoy…I…you forgot to ask for clothes for me, you gigantic prat!"

Malfoy stammered, stunned by his oversight, and hissed, "The thing can make two trips!"

'Oh great, the thing…is that how he thinks of me now? How much worse can this possibly get?'

She peered at him though her fingers. He had gotten taller and his blonde hair was tied back, just like his dear, old dad, and similarly dressed in black with silver embroidery flowing along the edges of his clearly, expensive robes. Prat…

He sat across from her, crossing his legs and folding his hands in a thoughtful manner, studying her with the air of a man at the latest Magical auction. He gave her a slow smile, and she glared back. He was waiting again, for the questions that were boiling up inside of her.

She sighed.

"How long…was I in there?"

"Ten years," he answered promptly. "The war lasted, oh I'd say, about a week after you were imprisoned. Maybe less…"

War? She held her head again. Ginny didn't want him to know though…that she didn't have the foggiest idea of what he was on about. Tom, yes, he wanted to cause a war. Yes, it was him. Her family of red-heads she knew but only flashes and distant voices so far back she couldn't hear the distinctions. She remembered Gryffindor but none of the faces. Same went for all of them.

"You don't remember, do you…" he drawled. She inwardly cursed. "Hmmm…how shall I tell you…right now, clear up all the cobwebs in that empty head…or slowly. I wonder."

"I DON'T CARE!" she shrieked, jumping up and almost losing her cover. "YOU THINK YOU HAVE POWER OVER ME, YOU SICK BASTARD! WELL, YOU HAVE ANOTHER THING COMING IF YOU THINK I WILL BEG YOU AND HANG ON EVERY WORD OUT OF YOUR FIFLTHY, 'PUREBLOOD' MOUTH, LIKE A DAMN HOUSE ELF!"

He pointed his wand at her with a look of pure venom on his face.

"Shut up, Ginvera, or I will lose my newest servant. But you'll find that these days servants are easy to come by."

She sat back down, shaking. Kreacher Apparated back by her side, making her jump. She took the towel quickly to cover her expression.

"Bring Ms. Weasley something suitable to wear for her rank, Kreacher."

He was tormenting her. For a moment, she wanted to beg. To beg until she couldn't speak.

'Don't do this to me, anything but this, please don't make me like a House Elf, I can't stand it, I can't stand not knowing, please, please with any decency you might have! You can't do this to a person!"

Instead, she looked numbly at him, at a complete loss. He smirked.

"Please…" she whispered. "You can't be serious…"

"And why not? Your side lost…oh, did I spoil that for you? Did you think it was the other way around?"

A tear slid down her face, and he started.

That was the only one. She supposed it must have been there the moment she was trapped and finally was able to fall.

"You're a monster…your parents must be so proud."

He looked disconcerted again, a strange look on a Malfoy. She looked closer, and he had circles under his eyes.

Kreacher came back again, and this time she didn't flinch, staring Malfoy down. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something dull, threaded, and brown.

"Bring something else," he hissed, and the House Elf squeaked and disappeared once more. Ginny blinked in surprise, her breath catching. Malfoy glared into the fire with unusual anger, his eyes dark. When he turned back however, his face was unreadable.

"Tell you what, Weasley," he said, condescendingly. "I won't make you lower than a House Elf, even if that is where Muggle-loving fools like you belong. At my feet. Since I am feeling merciful today, you can be higher than that."

'Oh, thanks.'

Ginny reached for the glass, trying to steady her hands, and poured the dark liquid inside, her cover dangling around her shoulders. His gaze was making her nervous now. She took a heavy drink, realizing how thirsty she was, and he wrinkled his nose.

"You might be interested…in knowing the fate of your relations?"

She swallowed more and held her hand up.

"Not now. Please. Later," she spoke in a clipped tone, trying to hide her fears.

He stood.

"Kreacher shall take you where you will be remaining under my service, Weasley. I trust you'll make yourself comfortable as you are used to that size of room."

With that last barb, he left with her staring after him.

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